Hesitation Marks
by Aphotica K. Lector
Summary: With crime rates at all time lows, a cult has formed beneath the dregs of the city called The Bible Black. Like all cults, they require followers... and they have their eye on Raven. "There was no help. In truth, she had no reason to panic; she inherited the thought that this was a benign procedure; no pain, no bloodshed, just arousal and touch – just sensation."


Author's Note: I haven't really written anything new for in a long time. The story I have up is a massive rework of my first ever posted piece. I decided that it's time to try something somewhat new. It's a reflection of everything I've written involving the demise of someone's ethics, the stranglehold of apathy and the degeneracy of violation. This story will contain near-X rated material – I plan on pushing it as far as I can go. I recommend listening to darker music, preferably industrial or tracks from the grand works of Silent Hill. Enjoy.

* * *

_The way a crow,_  
_Shook down on me,_  
_The dust of snow,_  
_From a hemlock tree,_

_Has given my heart,_  
_A change of mood,_  
_And saved some part,_  
_Of a day I had rued. _

**-Robert Frost, "Dust And Snow"**

* * *

**I. The Eater Of Dreams**

She could feel her skin tighten; there were many eyes on her now, dozens if not a hundred. In the great dark of it all, she felt her body yearn – yearn for entry. Her knees sat pressed against the warmed concrete, black candles circled around her with flickering, orange glows. Clad in only a bra and panties, she wondered how she ended up at the foot of so many men (and women for that matter). Memory served, though it did so with little precision; she had opted to do this. This was a ritual of some kind, some sort of thing hidden by the secrecy of the night. It was obvious; the men were all naked, aroused and glaring at her with folded arms and white, ghastly grins. Why was she doing this? Would something break? Would she break?

They didn't care and, deep down, she didn't care either. Society told her to; what was about to happen was considered dirty, naughty... incorrect. Absolutely wrong. It's something healthy people, sane people didn't do, let alone heroines. No matter how she tried, Raven couldn't piece together exactly how she'd arrived in the spot, let alone with... a chain and collar? She was surprised she hadn't noticed it before. Was she a pet? Why the collar and chain, why the candles and... a pentagram underneath her? "This one looks like she knows how to suck a cock or two." one of the men said from the dark, laughs echoing through the chamber.

"Where am I?" she asked, frail.

It was then when she noticed the waves of lust permeating through her core – suddenly, it didn't matter where she was... why she even was. No, what mattered was getting off. What mattered was touching and tugging, pulling and sucking.

"Did you already forget, slut?"

Another man laughed, "Our little pet forgot."

She tried to shake the sexual urges coursing through her body, her holes, "I... I don't know this place... where am I?"

"The Chamber Of Lilith." A familiar voice announced.

"I recognize that voice," she lifted the chain up in her hand, examining it in the flickering candle light.

The voice chuckled, then fell into a level of severity akin to a father scolding his daughter, "Enough. It's time to please us and the book – the Goddesses and Gods."

Another man's voice, "She said she liked anal, right? Because we can fit a few in there."

A hand went around the back of her neck, tugging on her gently. Raven did as ordered, tilting her head back and looking up at the men before her, "We'll start with her throat."

"Open up."

Raven followed her orders with utter delight.

* * *

She shot out of bed, gripping her chest. The night had aged; she'd fallen into slumber hours ago, naked. Naked for the first time. She never slept nude and now she'd remembered why; nightmares. Air seemed hard to breath, like there was never enough of it. She hunkered forward, slowly her breath. Calm down girl, it was just a dream. It had seemed so real – vivid, marked with sincerity. Wasn't she just in some basement? A sigh escaped her. Her body was starting to wake now, mending with reality yet again like all those other times she'd woken up.

Raven finally noticed how excited she was. The small puddle between her legs indicated that yes, she was enjoying it. But why? Horror was all that came to – a dark, erotic pulse of awe and equity. Then, a creaking of the door, "Raven... I had a little too much to drink." Starfire said, staggering through the sliver of light coming from Raven's door.

She fell back in bed, staring at the ceiling as Star bumbled around, "I tell you to knock for a reason." Raven scolded.

Starfire shrugged, making her way to the foot of Raven's bed, "Oops."

"Yeah," Raven turned on her side, suddenly realizing that she was naked, "Starfire, what the hell are you doing in my room?"

Star shrugged, "Bored. I feel... odd when I drink this elixir."

"Jack Daniels. Now will you please go away?"

Starfire laid back, right against Raven's nude backside, a damp sheet the only thing separating them. "You must have had a bad dream – your sheets are soaked!" Starfire exclaimed.

Raven rolled her eyes, "You're keeping me up."

Something was uncomfortable. Star was definitely up to something, trying at whatever she had planned. You couldn't tell with her anymore. Teen Titans had fallen victim to economy and politics. Several years ago, the governments of the world had combined and forged a new socioeconomic system, one where the vast majority of crime was near to non-existent. More people made more money, when it came down to the finest terms. Combine that with the new technological advances, you were always caught before you even commit ed the crime.

Inter-dimensional warfare had undergone a similar transition – transformation. Treaties were declared between galaxies and dimension much like what they'd seen on Earth, with the same technology. There was also something called The Hammer, which was essentially a giant bubble of photons wrapped around possible entrances and exits to troublesome regions of space time. With all of those things, the Teen Titans didn't have much of purpose, save for social work, which was Raven's current job. The others dabbled in nursing (Starfire, of course), engineering (both Beast Boy and Cyborg) and construction (Robin). Anyone else was already gone.

Raven's train of thought was interrupted by a warm hand caressing her back, "Sometimes, I feel different, Raven. I feel adventurous."

"What?"

Starfire blushed – you could tell, even in the dark of Raven's room, that she was blushing, "I never realized how warm you are... aren't you supposed to be cold? So surprised you're warm, Rave. And shaped wonderfully."

"Starfire..."

Star had started to move her hand behind Raven's neck, sliding it between her flesh and the sheets, "Soft skin, too... wait a minute."

"Are you done?" Raven mumbled.

Starfire stopped, "Are you wearing anything?"

"Starfire, go away."

She was observably hurt, "I'm... sorry."

As much as Raven loved her friends, she didn't think she was ready to let Starfire explore her body, especially with the scent of alcohol fuming from her breath. Give it any more time and Star would have her hand on Raven's ass, something that would only enhance the horror of the nightmare she just had. The neck was the trigger, though – that was the moment Raven had to stop her. This isn't the time, nor the place. "It's okay, Starfire. It was nice talking to you."

Starfire stood, a distant gaze focused somewhere in the room, "Yeah."

"Get some sleep."

She was gone after that.

* * *

Slade was many things. At least, he was. There was a new destination on his horizon, a truth and goal ready to be pursued. In fact, he was already doing that – pursuing his ultimate success. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd taken off the mask, fixed up his face and traversed the world of the civilians. Only yesterday that he had left his aggressive ways. Well, he was still aggressive alright, just in a new, more visceral sense. The city had been teeming with people, the movers and shakers crossing streets to and fro. Slade kept his hand shoved in the pockets of his trench coat, calmly walking along Boardwalk Avenue. Pride basked him.

He'd acquired Tara yesterday. She'd had no luck finding a new job, something that didn't surprise him. When she started crying, her mascara smeared and snaking down her face, Slade offered her a position in his new organization. The very first question he asked her was how experience Tara was with pleasing men (and women). Perplexity painted her face, then myriad of discomfort. Slade explained that he worked for an escort organization, even though this was a lie. After much debating, she joined.

Her first day proved interesting.

"I thought this was an escort service?" she'd echoed.

"For the gods, yes. You're going to discover how flexible the body is." Slade said that to her when she was at the helm of twenty three, erect men.

The pentagrams, the scents, the touch and tastes of his new career only drove him further. But it was when reading the Bible Black that he realized the godlessness and gods of lust demanded more than just one female body – he'd need quite a few more.

And that's why Slade was meandering about the city's busy day, looking for a special gal to contribute. Down the road, he'd need more men, too. It had a caste system, so to speak – this sex cult. There was no way around it; the following of Bible Black was a sex cult, pure and simple. A real one with real powers, as it seemed. And much like any secret society, there were ranks. Women moved through a little quicker than men given they contributed, though everyone still ended up in the same spot. The same... orifice.

Slade yawned, patting a hand against his mouth. "Fuck's sake," he turned the corner, his gaze landing on a coffee shop.

Nothing of true note – more pedestrians. It was Slade felt he needed to dream a little dream – think larger, really go for the gold. Grab life by the balls. The gears in his mind began to turn and, without a doubt, would take a grand obstacle to stop them. Perhaps... a Titan? There were only two females in the group, sure, but they seemed like such fun. Oh, the sights he could show them. It was merely a question of which one the Bible Black cult gathered first; Starfire or Raven.

* * *

Her body quivered, the slug leaving a slow, viscous trail of mucus along her skin. Her hands were chained to the bed, the room as pitch black as the voids in space. The mollusks weren't dangerous, no, just plain garden slugs. They'd put her in the room, all to her lonesome, so she could explore the Lovecraftian side of sensuality. Her smooth, pale skin glimmered in the moonlight seeping through the roof's glass, a small shadow cast by the small creature. It swirled back around, moving up toward her crotch before stopping suddenly and making its way back down her thigh again. The soft of her tissue quaked with... pleasure. Why was she liking this, again?

Perhaps it was the idea of something like a tentacle – she couldn't have know. There were more than one of these slugs. As small as a slug was, these were particularly healthy; large and about the size of a dinner plate. They were meant for cleansing. The definition of that eluded her. She grit her teeth and bit her lower lip, arching her back as the other couple made rounds on her flesh. The second one seemed transfixed on her midriff; indeed, it would slide into her belly button, gently push against its walls and come back out. By now, there were puddles of slime. A strange aroma of something sweet seemed to rise from its wake, enhancing their lustful patterns.

"Stop! Someone help me!"

There was no help. In truth, she had no reason to panic; she inherited the thought that this was a benign procedure; no pain, no bloodshed, just arousal and touch – just sensation. She was moaning now, panting, her tongue hanging to the side. It must have been an invitation for the other slug, the thing moving along the side of her face, perching itself on her lower lip, its eyes wavering in the small, ephemeral light of the room. "No, no!"

It wanted in her mouth.

For some reason, Raven was ready for sex now. "Get it away!" her cries went unanswered.

The slug slid inside her mouth, a salty taste of something familiar seeping into her taste buds and coating her feminine mouth. In response, it wrapped itself around her flickering tongue as if making love to it. Within moments, white, sticky ooze began filling her mouth. Unable to help herself, she swallowed every drop.

* * *

Another nightmare, another night. She wasn't as distraught this time. No, instead, she was relaxed – calm. A new puddle beneath her rear again, but this time, there was comfort in that. She laughed, speaking beneath her breath, "Did I read something? Did I see something I shouldn't have before I went to bed? Maybe it's my diet." she stood, tugging at the waistline of her panties.

They were becoming more frequent – more sincere... focused and honed. And worst of all, so was she. In fact, she felt somewhat excited for the next one. There was a knock on her door, likely to be Starfire again. "Rave?"

Yeah, Starfire. "Yeah?"

"It's like 10 in the morning honey." she called.

Raven looked over at an alarm clock, "Good thing I don't work today."

"Will you come out? The boys have left – it's just me. I made coffee." Starfire's voice oozed with desperation – what was her problem lately?

"Yeah, yeah," Raven sat her rear back down on the soft, damp bed, "just let me get my bearings here."

"Alright, I'll be in the kitchen." Footsteps trailed off, suggesting the redhead was gone.

Slugs, of all things, Raven groaned. She wondered for a second what the white stickiness was meant to stand for then immediately dropped the though. "Yeah," she grabbed her cloak off the floor, "I need coffee."


End file.
